Sub-Boards

Eilífðarinnar's Trunk

Once a titanic tree that reached high above the clouds, during the culmination of the War of the Giants, the Eilífðarinnar broke and fell into the ocean, where most of it eventually disappeared. What remains is still being used by the Eilífdring and the Vukodlak in shamanistic rituals to aid the forest and forest-dwellers, contact the spirits of the dead, as well as see to the last rites of their own kind to make sure they reach the afterlife. It is also in this place that a powerful magical leyline bleeds mana into the island, primarily into the tree. Aside from that, there is also another secret buried deep beneath this tree's roots that only a select few will ever get to witness.

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Fenris Rock

Named after their leader of old, Fenris Rock is a strange rock formation connected to a series of tunnels leading down almost to the roots of the Eilífðarinnar. Here, the shamanistic Vukodlak dwell, tending to the forest in their own way and living a life they believe the ancient tree intended for them. Being the place where they both eat and "work", the Vukodlak are not the most welcoming, so one should not expect to be let in with open arms. Around Fenris Rock, several unique kinds of plants can be found that grow nowhere else on any of the isles.

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Hakon's Weald

Named after the ancient Eilífdring hero that ended the War of the Giants, Hakon's Weald covers the totality of the island of Mandrenke. Due to the presence of the magical leyline breathing life into the forest, one can find almost all kinds of trees present in the known world in this forest, making it the perfect place for migratory birds to dwell, and in some cases stay for the remainder of their lives. It is also here that packs of Hróðvitnir roam the forest in search for prey, there are also Eilífdring that tend to the forests' needs, as well as threats lurking in the tallest of trees.

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The Eerie Peaks

In these tree covered mountains, the fierce Skrýtinn make their presence known. Due to their foul excrement and the corpses that litter the landscape, many of the trees in this area have died, losing their leaves and existing only to support the nests these harpies made for themselves. With their kind numbering in the thousands, few have ever attempted to thin out their numbers with a frontal assault on their dwellings, which is by itself quite hard due to the heights at which they live. On thing is certain, the scent of rot and feces is enough to make even some of the hardiest of men vomit.

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